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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26783452">A Truth Universally Acknowledged</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/moonlight_jukebox/pseuds/moonlight_jukebox'>moonlight_jukebox</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Criminal Minds (US TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Boss/Employee Relationship, Co-workers, Enemies to Lovers, F/M, Fluff, Love Confessions, Possible smut I'm not sure, Pride and Prejudice References, Slow Burn</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-10-03</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-02-24</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 05:27:44</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>12,682</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26783452</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/moonlight_jukebox/pseuds/moonlight_jukebox</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Reader is a member of the BAU that is liked by everyone…except her unit chief, Aaron Hotchner.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Aaron Hotchner &amp; Reader, Aaron Hotchner &amp; You, Aaron Hotchner/Reader, Aaron Hotchner/You</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>46</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>164</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>One of the lessons I learned early in life is that not everyone is going to like you. You can be the nicest, sweetest, prettiest peach on the tree…and you’re still gonna run into a mother fucker who hates peaches. And that’s okay.</p><p>I wasn’t for everyone; the people that loved me loved me fiercely and that was more than enough. It didn’t matter that some people didn’t like me.</p><p>…but for the life of me, I couldn’t figure out why Agent Hotchner <em>hated </em>me.</p><p>“He doesn’t hate you,” Garcia had told me, but even she didn’t look super convinced.</p><p>Hotch wasn’t an easy man. He was intimidating, domineering, and intense; but sometimes when he was with his team, I saw him smile or even laugh at something they had said. I had seen how his eyes lit up whenever he talked about his son. He wasn’t cold, detached, and mean to everyone.</p><p>Just to me.</p><p>--</p><p>Occasionally, I try to mentally run through my time at the BAU to see if I can pinpoint the thing I did that made the unit chief dislike me. It really didn't matter if he liked me, but he seemed offended by my existence. It didn't make for an easy working relationship, and if I could somehow apologize for what I had done, then maybe things at work would get easier.</p><p>I wasn't a member of the BAU team that went out in the field; I wasn't a profiler, but I was part of the entire unit. Most people only thought of Hotch's team that jumped on a plane with him when you said BAU, but dozens of us stayed back and worked behind the scenes to make sure things ran smoothly. Even though I wasn't a profiler, I was still so happy to be a part of this unit; all I had ever wanted was to make a difference.</p><p>It just seems that the difference I made was a bad one.</p><p>“Hey,” a voice called, drawing me out of my thoughts. Agent Jaruau, JJ as she told everyone to call her, was standing beside my desks with a manila FBI file in her hands. “Did you file this?”</p><p>My brow furrowed as I took the file she handed me, running my eyes over the document. Everything <em>looked </em>right…until I got to the bottom line.</p><p>“Shit,” I mumbled, my eyes snapping back up to look at hers. “I’m sorry.”</p><p>JJ waved her hand, dismissing my apology. “It’s no big deal, I made that same mistake fairly often when I worked as a media liaison. That form is confusing.” She gave me a small, genuine smile. “It’s already been logged into the system…” the pretty blonde woman let her words trail off, but I knew what she didn’t want to say.</p><p>“Hotch needs to sign off on the change,” I finished for her.</p><p>“I can take it to him for you,” she offered. “I don’t mind.”</p><p>I shook my head. “That will just make it worse.” I stood, squaring my shoulders. “It’s okay. It was my mistake; I’ll take responsibility for it.”</p><p>She just patted my back when I walked by, making the dreaded walk across the bullpen, up the stairs to Hotch’s office. This sort of dumb clerical error wouldn’t be a big deal for anyone else, but everyone knew how Hotch felt about me.</p><p>Huffing out a breath, I rapped my knuckles on his office door.</p><p>“Come in,” his gruff voice called out.</p><p>I kept my eyes downcast when I entered the room, shutting the door behind me. I sort of looked at dealing with Hotch in the same way you’d deal with a predator. No sudden moves, no direct eye contact, nothing that could be seen as challenging.</p><p>“Sorry to bother you, sir.” I began, my fingers gripping the file in my hand tightly. “I just need your approval on a system record change.” I held out the file folder.</p><p>It was promptly ripped out of my hands. “It’s customary to look at someone when you speak to them, Agent.”</p><p>Heat burned in my cheeks, but I lifted my gaze, grateful he wasn’t looking at me but at the file in front of him.</p><p>“Why does this need a record change?” he asked, still not looking at me.</p><p><em>Here goes nothing. </em>“I made an error on line 35.”</p><p>I saw the grip he had on his pen tighten ever so slightly. “I see,” he said softly. “Tell me, Agent, did you bother to read the form before you filled it out?”</p><p>"Yes, sir," I said quietly, feeling the muscles in my back tensing.</p><p>“Then <em>how </em>did you make such a stupid mistake?” Those dark brown eyes finally came to rest on my face. “I can’t have agents in this unit who are so careless. I don’t have the time to be cleaning up after anyone’s mistakes.” His voice had gotten sharper, he wasn’t quite yelling, but his words struck me hard just the same. “Is that clear?”</p><p>I nodded, focusing my eyes on his left ear. I was afraid if I saw the anger in his eyes that it would hurt me even worse.</p><p>“When I ask you a question, I expect an answer.”</p><p>My throat worked as I tried to swallow my emotions. “I’m sorry sir, it won’t happen again.”</p><p>He tossed the file on his desk. “See that it doesn’t.”</p><p>I snatched the folder off of his desk and all but ran from his office. I made the return walk down the stairs and across the bullpen to my desk. I dropped the file on my desk with a shaky exhale.</p><p>I really wanted to be the sort of person who could accept criticism without getting so emotional. I wanted to be the sort of person that could put up a brave face and let painful words just roll off of me.</p><p>But I wasn't.</p><p>I stood in front of my desk for a moment, weighing my options. I could sit down at my desk and try to pretend I wasn't gutted, or I could run to the bathroom and cry alone.</p><p> </p><p>I chose the latter.</p><p>--</p><p>Whenever I got so upset, I always felt like I had let the other person win. Running out of the bullpen and locking myself in a bathroom stall while I angrily dashed away the tears the rolled down my cheeks made me feel like a failure.</p><p>I kept telling myself that it didn’t matter what Agent Hotchner thought of me. I was good at my job, I had to be, or he would have already fired me. His complaints seemed to just be with…me as a person.</p><p>I stood in front of the mirror in the bathroom and took inventory of my reflection. It looked like I had been crying, but that’s nothing a makeup wipe couldn’t mostly fix. Besides, what did it matter if Hotch made me cry? He made Anderson cry all the time and no one said anything to him.</p><p>It wasn’t until I was tossing my makeup wipe away that I let out a slightly bitter chuckle; I realized I still mentally refer to him as “Hotch,” it’s what he told everyone to call him.</p><p>Everyone but me.</p><p>--</p><p>I had long ago decided that coffee was the answer to almost every problem life had. I think the only person who made more trips to the coffee machine than me was Dr. Spencer Reid. He didn't talk to me a lot either, but I don't think that's because he didn't like me. I think he was just awkward and nervous. <em>Maybe I should try to talk to him more. </em></p><p>Dr. Reid wasn’t at the coffee station when I made my way there after exiting the bathroom, but another member of the BAU was. If it had been anyone else, I might have tried to turn and act like I wasn’t going to the coffee pot in the first place, but I’m sure he had already noticed me.</p><p>David Rossi didn’t miss much.</p><p>I made my way over to the kitchenette counter, grabbing one of my mugs out of the cabinet before turning my head in his direction.  "Good morning, Agent Rossi," I chirped in greeting.</p><p>The older man returned my greeting, his eyes running over my face in a way that would have been terrifying if I didn’t know the man. I still wasn’t sure <em>how </em>someone could look so friendly and so calculating all at the same time.</p><p>“You okay, kiddo?” he asked, dropping his focus to his own coffee cup on the counter.</p><p>My teeth gnawed on my bottom lip as I considered my answer. “There’s no point in trying to lie to you, is there?”</p><p>The man who developed the art of profiling chuckled at my question. "No, not much of a point," he informed me, his voice kind. He didn't seem the least bit off-put by my question. "It's also probably not fair of me to ask such a hard question."</p><p>“No, it’s fine,” I insisted.</p><p>The older man just shook his head. “We both know it’s not.”</p><p>I felt tears prick the inner corners of my eyes again. “I just…I don’t know why he hates me so much. And I wish it didn’t bother me but-.” My voice cracked, betraying how upset I truly was.</p><p>Rossi let out a defeated sigh and reached his hand out to cover my own. “I’ve known Aaron for a long time, y/n. He’s a good man, one of the best men I’ve ever met.” He patted my hand before he pulled away to pick up his own cup. “Doesn’t mean he’s not a dick sometimes.”</p><p>I just gave him a slightly watery chuckle. “It’s okay. I just need to toughen up.”</p><p>“You don’t need to change a thing, <em>Bella.</em>” Rossi gave me one last smile before walking back to his own office.</p><p>I had already turned my focus back to my own coffee cup when I felt the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end, a primal instinct to let me know that I wasn’t totally safe.</p><p>There was no reason to look around; there was only one person who could make me feel that way in this building. My focus remained on my cup as I stirred in my packets of Splenda. Every cell of my body was telling me to run, but what was the point? Besides, he was less likely to yell at me in front of other people.</p><p>I hoped.</p><p>The air shifted when he took the same place against the counter that Rossi had just occupied; I'm sure he noticed subtle changes in my posture, no matter how hard I tried to hide them.</p><p>I gathered up the empty packets in one hand and gripped the handle of my mug in the other. “Excuse me,” I mumbled as I moved around him.</p><p>I hadn’t taken more than two steps before he spoke. “Agent.”</p><p>“Yes, sir?” I spun on my heel to face him.</p><p>He looked just the same as he had in his office. Trademark scowl, closely cropped dark hair, piercing dark eyes, black suit, red tie. Most of all he still looked utterly displeased that I existed in his general vicinity.</p><p>Agent Hotchner seemed to hesitate for a minute while his eyes ran over my face. “I…I, um.” He paused to clear his throat. “I expect that form to be re-entered into the system before the noon briefing.”</p><p><em>Right. </em>I glanced at the clock on the wall, noting the time was 11:15 am. “I’ll do it right now.”</p><p>He looked like he would say something else but snapped his lips together, giving me a sharp nod instead. I took that as a dismissal and made my way back to my desk.</p><p>Aaron Hotchner had won this round.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Reader tells the story of how she came to be at the BAU...and how she discovered her boss hates her.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It was a fluke I even got the job at the BAU. Whenever positions like that come open, it sets off a feeding frenzy. Everyone wants to work with the profilers.</p><p>Of course, I put in an application…but so did everyone else on my floor.</p><p>Three applicants were selected to interview with the unit chief the following week.</p><p>Had things gone according to plan, I’m almost positive I wouldn’t have been the one that got the job.</p><p>I had made my way up to the sixth floor that day, strolled right up to SSA Aaron Hotchner’s office door…only to find it empty. I had stood there for several moments, feeling deeply unsure of what to do, when an older man had seemed to notice my dilemma. He had salt and pepper gray hair and a friendly smile. This man informed me that Agent Hotchner’s son had caught some sort of stomach bug, so he was working from home that day.</p><p>What’s funny is I remember thinking he sounded like a really nice guy.</p><p>After making a quick phone call, the older man said he would be the one conducting my interview in the unit chief’s absence.</p><p>That’s how I met the legendary, SSA David Rossi, father of the BAU.</p><p>The first time I met Agent Hotchner didn’t happen until my second week at the BAU, and it didn’t go nearly as well as my meeting with Agent Rossi.</p><p>The team had just returned from a case, which always left the bullpen in a frantic state. Part of my job that day was to drop off a stack of forms to his office, something I had done multiple times…just when he wasn’t in there.</p><p>I had knocked on the door frame softly before I strode in, placing the files on the edge of his desk. He seemed busy, and I was afraid of making myself a nuisance, which is why I gave him a polite smile and turned on my heel to stride from his office.</p><p>I had just reached the doorway when he spoke. </p><p>“Who are you?” he demanded; his tone rather rude given we hadn’t even met yet.</p><p>“Oh, I’m Agent Y/l/n, sir.” I had actually turned back around and walked to his desk, extending my hand in greeting.</p><p>A greeting he never took.</p><p>“What are you doing here?” he clarified, giving me the same scowl that I now knew was just his resting-Hotch-face.</p><p>“I just transferred to the unit.”</p><p>His scowl deepened, and I promptly dropped my hand. "No, you didn't. I didn't authorize any transfers. There's been a mistake."</p><p>“No, there wasn’t,” I had insisted. “I interviewed with Agent Rossi.”</p><p>Agent Hotchner shot to his feet and stormed out of his office, turning left to continue his dramatic exit all the way to Rossi’s office.</p><p>Unsure of what to do, I just walked back to my desk, not missing the bewildered looks my co-workers sent me.</p><p>“What did you do to him?” Agent Anderson whispered.</p><p><em>Oh, so that’s not his normal behavior,</em> I had thought. The only answer I could offer Grant was a shrug.</p><p>I never quite figured out what about my presence in his office that day offended him to the core of his being, but the interaction we had later that afternoon confirmed I had done <em>something. </em></p><p>It was just after 3 pm when his voice boomed out over the entire bullpen, ordering me to his office.</p><p>He hadn't waited for me, instead retreating to his office. Under normal circumstances, I would have just walked in, but I thought it might be better to knock before I entered.</p><p>Judging by his reaction that was also a mistake.</p><p>“You wanted to see me, sir?” I had asked, clasping my hands together in front of me.</p><p>He dropped his gaze to the paperwork on his desk, the only sound in the room the scratching of his pen as he worked.</p><p>Looking back, I wonder if that was some sort of profiling game that he was playing to see what I was made of.</p><p>It goes without saying that he didn’t like his answer.</p><p>“Will you stop fidgeting?” he snapped, not even looking up from his paper.</p><p>I stilled my movements immediately. “Sorry.”</p><p>He finally lifted those dark, dark brown eyes to look at me. "I've spoken with Agent Rossi. He is my second in command, but ultimately, all decisions have to be approved by me." Agent Hotchner leaned back, crossing his arms over his broad chest. "I spoke to your former unit chief, and I've read over your yearly evaluations. Your work with the Bureau has been…adequate."</p><p>Coming from him, "adequate" sounded a lot like "fucking awful." But calling my work adequate only confused me more. I still spoke to my old unit chief; his recommendation is what landed me on the shortlist for an interview. I couldn't believe he would have said anything negative about my job performance.</p><p>The dark-haired man on the other side of the desk let out a deep sigh, leaning forward to rest his elbows on the shiny top of his desk. “Let me be perfectly clear, had I been the one to interview you…this would have worked out differently.”</p><p>My eyes widened. “Are you firing me?”</p><p>"No," he said sharply like my question had annoyed him. "It would be unprofessional to go over Dave's head like that. But you need to understand that this isn't just any other FBI unit. We <em>demand</em> more from you here.”</p><p>The sinking feeling that settled in my stomach at his words made this dream job feel like a potential nightmare. I was very proud of the fact that I kept my face neutral and said, “I understand, sir.”</p><p>His eyes had been so sharp when they ran over me again. “You also need to consult the FBI manual about proper dress code.”</p><p>That had stunned me. I looked down at my outfit, my brows drawing together in confusion.</p><p>I had worn black pants and a light blue top that day.</p><p>“Oh,” I had mumbled. “Alright.”</p><p>He didn’t look at me again, just dismissed me with a wave of his hand.</p><p>--</p><p>In the time since then, I had gone out of my way to avoid Agent Aaron Hotchner.</p><p>I also avoided wearing the color blue when the team was in office; I wasn’t quite sure why, but blue made him complain more.</p><p>It was petty of me, but I made sure to wear that color every time the team was gone on a case. The fact that I had a light blue button-down on today was a sign that Agent Hotchner was far away from Quantico. </p><p>I always felt guilty for the relief I felt when they were out of town on a case. If they were gone it was because someone, likely more than one someone, had died.</p><p>Someone died, and I was just relieved my boss wasn't around.</p><p>My relief was soon coming to an end, however. The team had gotten called away almost four days ago, and we had received word they would be arriving tonight around 7 pm.</p><p>That news hadn’t upset me because I would be long gone by then.</p><p>Or so I thought.</p><p>At around 4:30 that afternoon, right when I was finishing up my work in preparation for my quick escape, a very frazzled Special Agent Grant Anderson appeared beside my desk. </p><p>“I need a huge favor,” he began, his eyes pleading.</p><p>I sighed. “No,” I said firmly, but unable to hold my stern face when I saw his expression drop. “I’m kidding. What’s up?</p><p>Grant just scowled at me. "The team isn't back for another 2 hours, and Miss Brook's had an emergency."</p><p>My blank stare must have given away my confusion because he quickly explained, “Jessica Brooks? Hotch’s sister in law.”</p><p>“Oh.” <em>Right. God, I’m dumb. </em>“Is everything okay?”</p><p>He waved his hand in the air. “<em>She’s</em> fine, it was a work thing. But both sitters were busy, and she can't leave work until six this evening." </p><p>I just blinked at him, my brain refusing to put the pieces together.</p><p>“She said Hotch told her to call us if there was ever a problem.” I felt my stomach drop at those words. “She needs someone to watch Jack,” he said, widening his eyes at me to stress his point. “You know, Hotch’s son.”</p><p>“Yes, I know who Jack is,” I huffed. “What I don’t know is why you’re telling me this.”</p><p>Anderson shifted his weight from foot to foot, looking uncomfortable. "Well…usually, this would be my job, but…I have a date tonight."</p><p><em>Oh, crap on a cracker. </em>“Wait, you want <em>me</em> to babysit Jack Hotchner?” He nodded, causing me to frown. “You just assume I don’t have any plans tonight?”  </p><p>Grant cocked an eyebrow at me. “Do you?”</p><p>I crossed my arms over my chest. “<em>No.</em> Unless you count avoiding my boss as a plan.” My head dropped back as I looked at the ceiling. “Why would you ask <em>me? </em>Hotch hates me, he doesn’t want me near his kid!”</p><p>“Please, y/n,” he begged, his hands folded together like he was praying. “I can’t stand this guy up again. He’s like…the gay Derek Morgan.”</p><p><em>Hmm, </em>I thought, still not convinced.</p><p>"Miss Brooks will be here at 6; you won't even <em>see </em>Hotch.”</p><p>“Alright, I’ll do it,” I conceded with a sigh. <em>Maybe I do need to toughen up. </em></p><p>--</p><p>Jack Hotchner was a brunette little boy with his father’s dark eyes. Anderson brought him up to our floor, putting him in his father’s office while I finished my work.</p><p>Which was just the cherry on top of a shit sundae. Not only did I have to hang out with Agent Hotchner’s kid, but I also had to do it in his office! </p><p>Squaring my shoulders, I marched across the room, up the stairs, until I reached his office door. I knocked my knuckles against the open door, drawing the small boy’s attention. “Hey, Jack.”</p><p>He was sitting on the floor, which I found odd. His dark brown eyes looked leery of me while his fingers toyed with the pages of the book on his lap.</p><p><em>So, friendly like his father. </em>"I'm y/n. I hope you don't mind hanging out with me until your aunt can come to get you."</p><p>He just shrugged, showcasing that he also shared his father’s desire to never speak to me if it could be helped.</p><p>Making my way into the room, I dropped down to the floor, crisscrossing my legs in front of me. “So, what do you like to do, bud?” I rested my chin against my fist, considering him.</p><p>My mortal enemy’s son just shrugged. “I like Spiderman,” he began, ticking off the things on his fingers. “Soccer, batman, and legos.”</p><p>“Well, those are all pretty cool things to like.” I looked around the room, taking stock of the materials at my disposal “You know, I bet you’ve done a lot of cool stuff while your dad has been away. Maybe you could draw him a picture. Make him a little book filled with the adventures of Jack Hotchner.”</p><p>His eyes lit up. “That sounds cool.”</p><p>I nodded. “Hmm…we don’t have any crayons here, but I bet if we went and raided Miss Penelope’s lair, we’d find some. What do you think?”</p><p>Jack shot to his feet, clapping his hands eagerly. “Yeah!” he shouted.</p><p>Laughing, I got to my feet, adjusting my clothes before heading towards the door. “Then let’s go, little man!”</p><p>We started off towards Garcia’s lair side by side.</p><p>I wasn’t ready for the feeling in my heart when his little hand reaching up to grab my own.</p><p>--</p><p>“That looks like a spaghetti monster.”</p><p>Jack giggled, rolling his eyes in mock annoyance. “That’s not a spaghetti monster! That’s pizza!”</p><p>I shrugged. “Same family,” I teased, pulling another giggle from him.</p><p>We had decided that the best place to color was actually on his father’s desk. I had let Jack sit in his father’s chair, convinced I’d be subjected to some kind of hex if I did.</p><p>"Do you like pizza?" the little boy who had informed me no less than ten times that he was <em>basically</em> eight years old asked.</p><p>One of my hands slapped over my heart. “How could you ask that? Of course, I love pizza. Do you think I’m some sort of monster?”</p><p>“Maybe you’re a spaghetti monster!” he shouted, poking my arm with a crayon.</p><p>The hairs on the back of my neck stood up a moment before a voice from the door asked, “What is a spaghetti monster?”</p><p><em>I hope Anderson is having the time of his life, </em>I thought bitterly. <em>Because I’m going to kill him. </em></p><p>SSA Aaron Hotchner was standing in the doorway, black go-bag in hand, his eyes roaming over the scene before him.</p><p>“Dad!”</p><p>I rose to my feet while my new friend vaulted himself across the room into his father’s arms.</p><p>"Hey, buddy," I heard him whisper. "What are you up to?"</p><p>Jack beamed. “Me and y/n were drawing!” He ran back to the desk to get his “book.”</p><p>It's hard to believe that the same man crouched down looking at his son's drawing was the same man who yelled at me for filling out a form wrong. He wasn't scowling; there wasn't any tension in his shoulders.</p><p>If he wasn't such a mean ass to me all the time, I might even go so far as to say he was attractive.</p><p>My unit chief made a noise of wonder at the drawings. “What is all this?”</p><p>“It’s a book of my adventures while you were gone! Y/n was helping me make it.”</p><p>“She was?” he asked, his eyes coming to rest on me.</p><p><em>Fiddlesticks. </em>“Sorry, sir.”</p><p>He had the audacity to look <em>confused. </em>“Why?”</p><p>I just shrugged. “Consider it a pre-apology for whatever I need to apologize for for the rest of the day.” I moved to stand in front of his desk. “Thanks for hanging out with me, Jack-attack.”</p><p>The boy turned, grinning up at me before wrapping his arms around my middle, catching me by surprise. “Can we play again another day?”</p><p>I ruffled his soft brown hair. “Absolutely,” I assured him, actually meaning the words. For the son of a man who hated my very existence, he was actually a pretty good kid.</p><p>Satisfied by that answer, Jack released me and ran back over to his father, who was still looking at me strangle.</p><p>“See you tomorrow, sir,” I said, moving around him to walk out of the door.</p><p>“Bye, y/n!” Jack called.</p><p>I was several steps away from his office when I heard Agent Hotchner say, “Goodnight, y/n.”</p><p>It wasn’t until I was in the elevator that I realized that was the first time he had ever called me by my first name.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Chapter 3</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Reader has always been sure that Agent Hotchner hates her...but what if she was wrong?</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>This one ends on a bit of a cliffhanger. I hope to have chapter 4 out soon, though.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The following morning, I woke up with an uneasy feeling in the pit of my stomach.</p><p><em>You have nothing to be nervous about</em>, I told myself firmly. <em>You didn’t do anything wrong. You have no reason to be nervous.</em></p><p>Try as I might, I couldn't seem to find any comfort in my own words. Logically I knew that I had done nothing wrong the day before. My unit chief's sister in law had an emergency, and I had stepped in to babysit said unit chief's son. I had done a <em>nice </em>thing; he wouldn’t reprimand me for that.</p><p>Then again, he had once snapped at me for putting a blue post-it-note on the front of a file folder.</p><p>Working with SSA Aaron Hotchner was like working with a bomb. A tall, scowling bomb that wore dark suits.</p><p>That mental image cheered me up a bit as I entered the elevator to make my way up to the 6<sup>th</sup> floor.</p><p>Until I realized who was already in the elevator.</p><p><em>Crap on a cracker,</em> I thought.</p><p>I hadn’t even met his eyes, but it was like my body could just <em>sense </em>him. "Morning," I muttered before retreating to the far corner of the elevator.</p><p>Agent Hotchner made a grunt of acknowledgment. He always greeted other agents politely; I had heard him.</p><p>Just not me.</p><p>The silence hung heavy in the air while the elevator made its slow ascent. I wasn't the sort of person that was uncomfortable with silence; I had always thought that being able to share comfortable silence with someone was a powerful thing.  </p><p>Nothing about this was comfortable.</p><p>When the doors finally slid open, I saw his arm shoot out to indicate I should exit the elevator first in some foreign display of manners.</p><p>“Thanks,” I mumbled, my eyes never meeting his.</p><p>I moved quickly towards the double glass doors of the bullpen, but his legs were so much longer than mine that he was able to keep up easily.</p><p>“Jack said he had fun with you yesterday.”</p><p>The statement caught me so off guard I almost stumbled. Reaching for the door handle, I cleared my throat. “Oh. Yeah. I had fun with him too. He’s a great kid.”</p><p>I expected the conversation to end there.</p><p>Clearly, Agent Hotchner had different expectations.</p><p>“Agent y/l/n,” he called.</p><p>The way he said my name was almost as jarring as the fact that he said it at all. He didn’t raise his voice; it wasn’t a shout. He spoke with a normal volume that I always heard him use with other people.</p><p>Just never with me.</p><p>“Sir?” I asked, turning to face him, my eyes finally meeting his dark gaze.</p><p>His eyes always appeared flat and black to me. It was a true hallmark of his skills as an agent that he never revealed anything. <em>Maybe there’s nothing to reveal. </em></p><p>“Thank you.”</p><p>My eyebrows drew together. “What?”</p><p>He shoved his right hand into the pocket of his trousers. “For yesterday. Most people don’t…they don’t actually play <em>with </em>him,” he explained, his eyes roaming over me. “It meant a lot to him.”</p><p>“Oh,” I said, shaking my head slightly as if to clear it. “It’s no big deal.”</p><p>I saw something flicker in those dark eyes for just a moment. The smallest fraction of a second that I could never be 100% certain that I actually saw anything.</p><p>“It meant a lot to me.”</p><p><em>Oh. </em>All I could do was stare at him while I struggled to find my voice. “You’re welcome, Agent Hotchner.”</p><p>I was still trying to process our interaction when he turned around and made his way towards his office.</p><p>--</p><p>The team presented new cases every morning at 10. Not every case warranted their physical presence; more often than not, they simply worked up a preliminary profile for the agency that was requesting help. The loss of another life had to be a certainty before they actually traveled. </p><p>Judging by how stiff everyone was sitting in the conference room, I figured it warranted a “wheels up” response.</p><p>I was drawn out of my musings when a very chipper Special Agent Anderson plopped himself down on the edge of my desk with an exaggerated sigh.</p><p>“That good, huh?” I questioned with a quirk of my eyebrow.</p><p>The man just nodded. “He was…”</p><p>I looked at him expectantly. “He was what?”</p><p>Anderson sighed. “He was so tall.”</p><p>A giggle bubbled up in my throat before I had a chance to stop it. This reaction earned me a mock glare from Grant. “I’m sorry,” I said, trying to get hold of my amusement. “So, he was tall. That’s…that’s great.”</p><p>He nodded enthusiastically. “It really is.”</p><p>“Well, I’m glad <em>you </em>had a good time last night,” I said dryly.</p><p>That got his attention. “What? Was Jack a nightmare?”</p><p>“No,” I said, smiling at the memory of my evening with the boy. “He was great. What was <em>not </em>great was his father picking him up.”</p><p>Grant winced. “Shit, I’m sorry. I thought his aunt was going to get him.”</p><p>I waved him off. “It’s fine. Surprisingly he didn’t scream at me in front of his kid.”</p><p>"Y/n," he began, but I cut him off.</p><p>“It’s so weird. He was even nice to me this morning. He told <em>me</em> 'thanks,'" I said, my voice thick with disbelief. "Me! Can you believe it? He said how nice I was 'mattered' to him." I waved my hand around absentmindedly. "I mean, I clearly don't matter to him, but that's beside the point." </p><p>“Y/n,” he said more urgently, but I was already facing my computer. I couldn’t see how wide his eyes were or how stiff his posture had become.</p><p>“I mean, maybe Rossi told him about my transfer request.”</p><p>“Your <em>what?”</em></p><p>That deep voice didn’t belong to Anderson. I pulled both my lips between my teeth, cursing myself to every deity I knew.</p><p>With a resigned sigh, I turned my head until I met the scowling Agent Hotchner.</p><p>“My office,” he snapped. “Now.”</p><p>Under normal circumstances, I might have found it comforting that he wasn't yelling, but now I just found it more unsettling. His voice was cold and clipped, his eyes hard, and his posture was ridged.</p><p><em>Fuck,</em> I thought as I trailed after him.</p><p>He held the door open for me, which might have been seen as a night gesture any other time.</p><p>It wasn’t.</p><p>As soon as I entered his office, he slammed the door shut, causing me to jump. He then stalked over to the window that looked out over the bullpen, yanking the blinds closed.</p><p>My unit chief walked over to his desk, but he didn't sit. Instead, he rested his fists on the shiny wood while his eyes bore into me.</p><p>"You put in a transfer request with Agent Rossi?" He asked, but he carried on, clearly not caring about the answer. "I am the BAU unit chief, Agent. Transfer requests come through me. This is a flagrant disrespect for the chain of command."</p><p>“I didn’t put in a transfer request with anyone,” I interrupted when he paused to draw breath. “I just mentioned it to Agent Rossi a few days ago. If I made any requests, I know the procedure.”</p><p>“Clearly not.”</p><p>My eyebrows drew together. “Sir, I haven’t done anything wrong. I was just asking the opinion of a senior agent.”</p><p>He lifted his left fist up only to slam it back down on the desk. “You should have come to me, Agent.”</p><p>“Why?” I snapped. “So, you could tell me to leave?”</p><p>The man across from me looked as stunned by my outburst as I felt.</p><p>I squared my shoulders. <em>In for a penny, in for a pound. </em>“Agent Rossi is the only person I know who has ever left the BAU. He clearly regretted it enough to come back. I wanted to get his perspective.”</p><p>“Why?”</p><p>My forehead wrinkled in confusion. “I love working here,” I explained. “I don’t want to leave.”</p><p>Agent Hotchner stood, crossing his arms over his chest. “Then why were you asking him about transferring?”</p><p><em>Is he kidding? </em>I asked myself, my eyes searching his face. "Permission to speak freely, sir?" When he gave a hesitant nod, I finally said what I had wanted to say since the first day I met him. "It's hard to work in a place where your superior openly dislikes you. I know it's ridiculous to have a need to be liked by everyone, but…I just don't know <em>why </em>you dislike me so much.”</p><p>Something flashed in his eyes again. It was too fast for me to see, let alone understand, but it felt significant. For that brief moment, his eyes weren't the same flat, emotionless black I was accustomed to.</p><p>"We can discuss this when I get back, we have a case," he informed me, reaching down to pick up his go-bag. "But this isn't over, Agent."</p><p><em>No, </em>I thought sullenly. <em>I don’t suppose it is. </em></p><p>--</p><p>My nerves were on edge for the next four days while the conversation I had with Agent Hotchner played on a loop in my mind. The team had gone to Washington to assist the state police in catching a serial rapist turned killer.</p><p>At the end of the fourth day, Garcia notified us that the team would be returning the following day. I thought I had been nervous before I got that news, but that was nothing compared to how I felt once I realized that conversation I had been dreading was most likely going to happen tomorrow morning.</p><p>“You okay?”</p><p>I turned my head to find Grant looking down at me, his brow creased with worry.</p><p>“Yeah,” I lied, forcing a bright smile.</p><p>He didn’t look convinced. “Have you given any more thought to transferring?”</p><p>I slumped in my chair with an exasperated huff. The truth is that had been a thought bouncing around my head for weeks now. As much as I loved the BAU, I wasn’t sure that it was the right place for me. I wanted to help people, but I had to think about what was good for me in the long run.</p><p>Maybe I didn’t fit here, and maybe that meant I fit better somewhere else.</p><p>"I haven't decided anything," I said at last. "When Agent Hotchner left, he told me we'd continue our discussion when he got back."</p><p>Anderson tilted his head to the side, a look of contemplation on his face. “Well, at least maybe you’ll get some answers then.”</p><p>
  <em>That’s what I’m afraid of. </em>
</p><p>--</p><p>Later that evening, I was sitting on my couch, pretending to watch a tv show I had seen before while I scrolled on my phone when there was a knock at my front door.</p><p>Because I lived alone, I very rarely put my gun in the gun safe. Maybe it wasn’t the safest thing, but as a woman that lived alone in the murder capital of the United States, having it nearby made me feel better.</p><p>The knocking came again, louder this time, causing me to reach for my gun holster as I made my way over to my front door. I pressed my eye to the peephole, but I was in no way prepared for what I saw.</p><p>“Agent Hotchner?” I called, quickly turning the locks on my door.</p><p>He made no move to answer me before I opened the door. His hands were braced on either side of my front door, his head bowed.</p><p>“Agent Hotchner?” I asked again, my tone thick with confusion. “What are you doing here?”</p><p>He lifted his head, shaking it slightly as if to clear it. If possible, he looked more confused than I felt. “I’m sorry. I know it’s late. I just…”</p><p>When he made no attempt to finish his sentence, I began to grow more worried. "Is everything alright, sir?" He still didn't answer, but he did stand up straight, bringing his hands down to his sides. "Hotch?" I tried again, looking him up and down for any signs of physical injury. To the casual observer, he would have looked fine, but I saw the slight tremor in his hands.</p><p>Aaron Hotchner was standing at my front door, his eyes unfocused and his hands were shaking.</p><p>I didn’t think about my actions, I simply reached my hand out to grasp his forearm, squeezing slightly. “Aaron?”</p><p>Hearing his first name seemed to finally grab his attention; his dark eyes focused on my face. "I'm sorry. I don't know why I came here. I just…I needed to see you. I needed to make sure that you were alright." He cleared his throat, looking more uncomfortable than I'd ever seen him. "I don't know what I was thinking."</p><p><em>That makes two of us</em>, I thought.</p><p>"Do you want to come in?" I offered. When he gave me an uneasy look, I added, "it's just that it's cold…and I'm not exactly dressed to have my front door open in the middle of October."</p><p>That ended up being a terrible thing to say because his eyes immediately dropped to run over my body, taking in the t-shirt and shorts I had put on once I got home. Despite my initial embarrassment, I was relieved to see his lips twitch slightly. Agent Hotchner never smiled at me, but he'd never shown up at my house before either. I took a step back, waving him inside.</p><p>My unit chief made his way into my living room, standing awkwardly while he shoved his hands in his pockets.</p><p>After a beat, I spoke. "Are we going to talk about why you're here…at my house? How do you even know where I live?"</p><p>"I'm your boss," he responded like it was obvious.</p><p><em>Fair enough. </em>“That still doesn’t explain why you’re here. Garcia said you wouldn’t be back till tomorrow.”</p><p>Tension tightened his features, causing the lines around his mouth to be more prominent. “We just got back…The case didn’t…it didn’t go well. We all just wanted to come home. And…” he swallowed, his eyes dropping to the floor. “I’m so sorry, y/n. She just…the last girl.”</p><p>“Do you want to sit down?”</p><p>"She looked like you," he hurried out. "We were too late and we…we found him while he was...and he killed her the second we breeched the door. I tried to get to her, but she was already gone." He brought his eyes up to meet mine. "And she looked just like you."</p><p><em>Oh. </em>“Oh.”</p><p>“I just had to see for myself that you were fine.”</p><p>“I…I appreciate that, sir. But…I’m fine.” I shifted my weight from foot to foot. “You could have just called.”</p><p>“No,” he said, taking a step closer to me. “I couldn’t.”</p><p>His words felt heavy in the air like they were dripping with a significance that I didn't understand.</p><p>I fought the urge to fidget under his gaze while I tried to make sense of this. “Agent Hotchner, I don’t understand what’s happening.”</p><p>“You have to know you’re wrong,” he said softly. “You’re wrong about me.”</p><p>“How?”</p><p>A war seemed to happen behind his eyes before he spoke again. “You matter to me. You need to know that you matter to me.”</p><p>His words hit me in the chest, causing my lungs to seize. “I don’t understand.”</p><p>“I don’t hate you.”</p><p>My entire world seemed to tilt after he said those words. I screwed my eyes shut as my brain tried to process what was happening. My heart lurched at his words, but my head couldn’t reconcile this information; it went against everything I had ever thought.</p><p>On a shuddering breath, I opened my eyes again, lifting my gaze to his face. I wanted to see his eyes; I needed to see those flat, black, cold eyes to anchor myself to this moment.</p><p>But that wasn’t what I saw.</p><p>Stunned, I stared at him while I tried to process what I was seeing. His eyes weren't empty. His dark gaze locked on mine, and it's filled with so much; shame, agony, and…<em>longing</em>. It’s all just bleeding from the darkness of his eyes.</p><p>“But,” I whisper. “You…you hate me.”</p><p>Agent Hotchner, the man that had made my life hell, let out a bitter chuckle. “No,” he said on an exhaled breath. “My life would be so much easier if I hated you.”</p><p>I felt a coldness spread over my body while a fire burned in my stomach. “You have to hate me,” I insisted. “You’re…you’re mean to me.”</p><p>“I know,” was his response as he brought one of his hands up to scrub over his face. "I…I thought it would be easier this way. You don't understand what…I wasn't prepared for you. It was like lightning. I hadn't felt that in…"</p><p>He didn’t finish his thought, but he didn’t need to. Everyone in the bureau knew about what had happened to the BAU unit chief’s wife several years ago. But that knowledge only confused me more. “So, you were mean to me…because you <em>liked</em> me?”</p><p>“Y/n,” he began.</p><p>But I interrupted him. “I’m sorry, sir. But I need you to leave.”</p><p>His eyes moved over me, from the set of my shoulders to the fists balled up at my sides. “You’re angry. I understand – “</p><p>It was my turn to release a bitter chuckle. “You don’t understand anything. I don’t know what you expected. You just told me you made every day of my life hell because you <em>like </em>me?”</p><p>“Y/n, I…I really thought…I thought I was doing the right thing. I never meant to make you hate me.”</p><p>“But I didn’t hate you,” I snapped. “I tried, but I was never able to hate you. Even though <em>you</em> hated <em>me.</em>” </p><p>He took a step towards me, his gaze burning across my skin. “I never meant to make you think that, y/n.”</p><p>I wrapped my arms around my midsection as if I was trying to hold myself together. “I…I don’t…I need you to leave.”</p><p>Agent Hotchner took another step towards me, his eyes desperate. The fact that I could finally see the emotions behind his eyes only made me more confused. “I know this is hard, y/n. I just need to – “</p><p>“Aaron,” I said softly, my voice thick. “I need you to leave.”</p><p>He let out a defeated sigh, but to my relief, he stepped back, moving towards my front door. "I'll leave. I just…we have to talk about this, y/n."</p><p>I couldn’t respond; for the first time in my entire life, I didn’t know what to say. I just stood frozen in place, even long after he had shut my front door.</p><p>Because all this time, I thought Agent Hotchner felt nothing but hate for me. But I was wrong.</p><p>I don’t think I’ve ever been more wrong in my life.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Chapter 4</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>After Aaron’s confession, Reader is left confused and betrayed. Where do we go from here?</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>It’s wrong to have favorites, I know. But the readers of this series are some of the sweetest souls on the planet. Thank you for waiting on me, doves. Here’s chapter 4.  🤍</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The hardest part of your world falling apart is that the rest of the world continues spinning. My mind was a mangled wreck of thoughts and confusion, but time continued to tick on, no matter how long I stayed frozen.</p><p>I couldn’t be sure how long I stood rooted to the spot; my eyes fixed on the door.</p><p>The world was spinning on, and I was right where he left me.</p><p>I wanted to be angry. I wanted to be furious at this man for coming into my apartment, <em>my home, </em>and throwing some schoolyard boy confession at my feet. He was in pain, so he sought me out to make it better.</p><p>Try as I might, I couldn’t feel the hot burn of anger in my stomach. All I felt was cold.</p><p>--</p><p>It was difficult to drag myself out of bed the following morning. A huge part of me wanted to leave a message on his answering machine at the BAU. Surely, he couldn't expect me to come in today…not after last night.</p><p>I reasoned that the team had gotten in rather late last night, and Hotch usually let them come in late the day after a tough case. With that in mind, I decided to go into the office, leave a note on his desk, and then take a half-day. With any luck, there would be another terrible murder that required an in-person response from the most elite team in the FBI.</p><p>My hands were clasped in front of me, eyes downcast, while I rode the elevator up to the 6<sup>th</sup> floor. It was still early, not quite 7 am. I thought I had plenty of time to do some reports, leave my note, and retreat back to my apartment to try and process my emotions.</p><p>Dropping my things off at my desk, I grabbed a yellow post-it-note and scribbled down “<em>Took a half-day. Not feeling well," </em>with my initials at the end. I had never called in during my time with the BAU.</p><p>But Agent Hotchner had never shown up at my door, either.</p><p>I walked up the stairs to his office, planning to leave my note on his desk so I could just slip out whenever I needed, only to stop in my tracks in front of his door.</p><p>His <em>open </em>door.</p><p>The only light was coming from the desk lamp. The sun was starting to rise, but SSA Hotchner had his blinds drawn shut. His head was propped against his right hand while his left scratched over the paper in front of him. He was in the same clothes he wore last night.</p><p>
  <em>Did he not go home? </em>
</p><p>I didn't speak that question aloud, but his head jerked up like he heard me anyway. The shadows under his dark eyes were more pronounced than usual, and there was a dusting of stubble across his sharp jaw.</p><p>In all the time I’d known him, I’d never seen Agent Hotchner look tired…but this was somehow even worse than that. The man in front of me looked defeated.</p><p>Agent Hotchner whispered my name so softly it sounded like a question before he shook his head slightly, clearing his throat and sitting up straighter in his chair. “What are you doing here?”</p><p>His question confirmed my suspicions. “It’s after 7 in the morning, Agent Hotchner.” I took a step into his office, my eyes moving down to his wrinkled shirt. “Did you stay here all night?”</p><p>Hotch shifted in his seat, placing his pen on his desk. “Um…yeah. I…Jack was already asleep when we landed. And I had some work to do.”</p><p>It didn't escape my notice that he was having difficulty speaking to me, but his eyes never left my face. "How are you?"</p><p>“I’ve…I don’t know,” I answered honestly.</p><p>He nodded. “I don’t expect you to want to listen to anything I say, but I need to tell you that I’m so sorry. It was unprofessional of me to come to your home last night. It was even worse to say what I said. If you need to report this to Chief Strauss –“</p><p>“Did you mean it?” I asked, cutting him off.</p><p>He squared his shoulders, his palms flexing on his desk. He didn’t need to ask what I meant. “Yes.”</p><p>I dropped my gaze, my teeth biting down on the inside of my cheek. I heard his movements across the room, but I couldn’t lift my eyes to watch him move.</p><p>“I meant every word. And I’m so…I’m so incredibly sorry.”</p><p><em>Sorry for what? </em>I thought bitterly. What part of the last several months was he sorry for?</p><p>My eyes squeezed shut. “I can’t…I can’t do this right now.”</p><p>When I opened my eyes, I saw his shoes' shiny toes, indicating how close he was to me. "Of course. We…we don't ever have to talk about it if you don't want."</p><p>I looked up then, my watery eyes meeting his dark ones. He looked so torn. Like he was being pulled in half.</p><p>“What do you want?”</p><p>Emotion passed over his face so quickly I almost missed it. “Something I can’t have.”</p><p>His words hit me like a sledgehammer to the sternum, but underneath that pain, deeper under my skin, was white-hot rage. Because how dare he, how fucking <em>dare </em>he say something like that to me after all this time?</p><p>A bitter, albeit watery, chuckle slipped past my lips. "Yeah, well. Whose fault is that?"</p><p>My sole focus was on making it out of his office, so I missed the way he reached out when I moved away. I missed how he paused in the doorway, his eyes following me back to my desk.</p><p>I wonder how many other things I had missed.</p><p>--</p><p>To my dismay, I was only able to avoid Special Agent Grant Anderson until 10:13 am. I had tried my best to put on a mask of indifference, hoping that everyone would think it was just a typical day.</p><p>I should have known better. Grant wasn't a profiler, but he had worked with them for years and years. Not only that, but he was also my friend. He was the sort of friend that couldn't stand to watch someone he cared about being in pain.</p><p>He was also a nosey bitch.</p><p>I was on my way back from forensic accounting when his hand shot out to grip my bicep, pulling a surprised yelp from me.</p><p>“What the fuck, Grant?”</p><p>He was unmoved by my outrage. “Nope,” he said, putting extra emphasis on the p. “You and me. We’re doing this now.”</p><p>Jerking my arm out of his grip, I turned to face him. “There’s nothing to talk about.”</p><p>“Bullshit,” he hissed, his arms crossing over his chest. “If there was nothing to talk about, you’d have asked me <em>what </em>I wanted to talk about. You didn’t do that. You said there is nothing to talk about. That means there is something fucking <em>huge </em>to talk about.” </p><p>My brows pulled together. “That doesn’t make any fucking sense.”</p><p>The taller man was not amused. “You’re snappy today,” he noted, his eyes moving over my face. “The circles under your eyes are darker than normal.”</p><p>“Rude!” I sputtered.</p><p>“You got here before me. Greene said you got here before her too. You’re tense and….”</p><p>I waited, my patience wearing thin. “And what?” I snapped.</p><p>My friend took a step forward, his hands coming out to grip my arms, rubbing up to my shoulders. He bent his head slightly, looking into my eyes. "You look really, really sad."</p><p>It was his genuine concern that caused the mask I wore to crack just slightly. I felt confusion, pain, anger, and shame course through my body, resulting in the feeling of tears pricking the corners of my eyes. “I can’t, Grant,” I whispered. “I can’t do this now.”</p><p>He nodded, running his hands back down my arms until he took my hands in his own. “Okay,” he said simply. “We just have to make it through today. And then once today is over, we’ll talk.”</p><p>I let out a sigh of relief, but even that relief felt hollow. “Thank you.”</p><p>Grant just smiled at me. “You know I’m your guy.”</p><p>--</p><p>It had been my plan to sneak out of the office around lunchtime, but something had come up. I ended up taking a half lunch, spending the remainder of my time hacking through piles of red tape from the higher-ups. The BAU was an essential part of the FBI, which meant it was also an expensive unit. Every moment had to be justifiable, or else the director might start asking why the team needed their own jet.</p><p>I was still scrolling through reports when I heard the double glass doors of the BAU open, followed by far too many footsteps.</p><p>Turning my head, I noticed a woman in her late twenties entering the bullpen, a visitor pass displayed on her pink sweater. Behind her trailed no less than 15 small children. I was confused for a second until I saw a very familiar head of brown hair.</p><p>My suspicions were confirmed when SSA Hotchner opened his office door for the first time all day. He had a soft smile on his face as he made his way towards his son’s teacher, offering her a handshake. I noticed his shirt was different, but he still had a dark dusting of stubble along his jaw.</p><p>It didn't take a profiler or even someone intelligent to surmise that Agent Hotchner was giving his son's class a tour of the FBI. I couldn't help but smile to myself. No matter what had happened so far between his father and me, I really did like Jack Hotchner. He was a kind boy with an energetic spirit, and I could only imagine how excited he was to show off his dad's job to his friends.</p><p>I tried my best to focus on the task on my computer, I really did. But my attention kept straying back to the man that plagued my thoughts. He was speaking louder than usual so all the children could hear him. He was politely answering their questions, and I even heard him laugh at one point.</p><p>
  <em>How many times have I heard him laugh before? </em>
</p><p>I wasn't the only person that couldn't keep my attention away from the supervisory special agent. Jack's teacher kept moving closer and closer to him as they made their way around the bullpen. At one point, I saw her hand resting on his arm, and I couldn't stop my eyes from rolling.</p><p>Pushing away from my desk, I made my way over to the coffee station while SSA Hotchner led the class out of the bullpen and down the hall, presumably to meet the legendary Penelope Garcia.</p><p>I was still scowling when I started to make my coffee, all the while desperately hoping that the combination of sugar and caffeine would turn me into a functioning human being; I mean, it worked for Dr. Reid. I was stirring a sugar packet into my coffee when I saw someone approach from my right side.</p><p>SSA Rossi let out a sigh as he reached into the cabinet for a mug of his own. “Today feels longer than my second marriage.”</p><p>I smiled despite myself. "It might very well be, sir." Under normal circumstances, I wouldn't have felt comfortable enough to make a joke like that in front of Rossi. Maybe that was what tipped him off to my inner turmoil.</p><p>Or maybe he just had eyes.</p><p>“You okay, <em>bella</em>?”</p><p>“Yeah, sir,” I mumbled. “I’m alright. Just tired.”</p><p>The older man's sharp eyes moved over my face, taking an inventory of me. I couldn't be sure if he knew what had happened last night with one of his teammates and closest friends, mostly when I wasn't even sure what happened myself.</p><p>Agent Rossi let out a long breath before he placed his hand over my own. “You’ll come talk to me before you make any decisions.”</p><p>My eyes shot up to meet his. “Excuse me?”</p><p>He patted my hand before releasing me. “I saw him on the plane home yesterday. I’ve known Aaron for a long time; the man doesn’t rattle easily. But losing that girl rattled him. I had a hunch it would be the thing that finally broke him.”</p><p>I swallowed thickly. “I…I don’t know what to say, sir. I don’t…I don’t even know what I feel.”</p><p>“You don’t have to have any answers right now, <em>bella. </em>If anything, I’d expect you to have a lot of questions. And, as much as I’d like to answer them, I think we both know who you have to talk to.” He turned his attention back to the coffee station. “But no matter what, you’ll let me know before you decide to officially put in a transfer request.”</p><p>Though it was phrased like a question, it strangely didn’t feel like one. I nodded. “Of course.”</p><p>No sooner had those words left my mouth than Jack's class made their way back into the bullpen, led this time by Garcia. She teetered on her tall pink heels, waving her arms around animatedly. "Now, we'll go to the briefing room and play a game!" Her smile sparkled before her eyes widened comically. "Which is a very different energy than the briefing room usually gets. A win-win!"</p><p>My eyes were moving over the little faces in the group a moment before my tiny friend spotted me. He shot me a toothy smile and gave me a short wave. “Hi,” he almost whispered.</p><p>The first genuine smile of the day tugged on the corners of my lips. “Hey, spaghetti monster.”</p><p>Jack giggled at me while he followed the rest of his class up the stairs to the conference room.</p><p>When I turned back to the kitchenette counter, my eyes moved over to find SSA Hotchner staring at me with the same unreadable look I’d seen a thousand times.</p><p>Only it wasn’t all that unreadable anymore.</p><p>--</p><p>I left not long after that. The combination of exhaustion and confusion had worn me down to my bones. Jack’s class had still been in the conference room, all focused on SSA Hotchner when I made my way through the glass doors. I didn’t look back, but it didn’t matter. Ever since he’d walked out of my apartment last night, I felt his eyes burn across my skin.</p><p>I couldn’t be sure what was real anymore.</p><p>After I got home, I fell into a fitful sleep. Though my body was exhausted, my mind refused to quiet, filling my dreams with dark eyes that looked so incredibly sad.</p><p>My nap lasted until 5:45 that evening when I was woken by a persistent knocking on my door. It would have made sense for me to be more concerned about who was on the other side after last night, but I'd know that annoying knock pattern anywhere.</p><p>I threw open the door to the familiar face of Agent Anderson.</p><p>“You could have just called.”</p><p>“I did,” he said, shoving his way into my apartment. “You didn’t answer. I agreed we could talk about this later. And it’s later.”</p><p>I huffed, giving him a withering look while he plopped down on my couch. "You said we'd talk once the day was over. It's not even 6 pm yet."</p><p>“That was before Hotch stopped by my desk after you left.”</p><p>My eyes went wide. “What?”</p><p>Grant nodded. “He stopped by to ask me if you were feeling okay. Then he told me to “relay” the message to you that you could take some personal time if you needed.” He shifted on my couch, patting the cushion next to him, indicating I should sit. When I complied, partially because my knees threatened to buckle, he continued. “Now, I might have asked myself why the BAU unit chief would ask me to relay this message to you when he could just send you an e-mail. But I think I know.”</p><p>I kept my stare downcast, fixed on my hands. “You do?”</p><p>He made a soft sound in his throat before he put an arm around my shoulders. “I do. I think we all did. But now I think you know too.”</p><p>His words broke the last thread of control I had. The tears started to leak from the corners of my eyes before I could stop them. Grant tightened his arm, bringing my body to lean against him while all of the emotions of the past day caught up with me.</p><p>“He came here,” I whispered brokenly. “Last night. He came here and said he needed…he needed to see me. He said…he said after the case he needed to be sure I was safe.”</p><p>Anderson rubbed my back in soothing circles while I rambled, offering a quiet comfort I didn’t know I needed.</p><p>“He said that I <em>mattered </em>to him, Grant. He said he didn’t hate me. He said his life would be <em>easier </em>if he hated me.”</p><p>I felt grant nod, his chin brushing against my head. “I imagine it would be.”</p><p>“What do you mean?”</p><p>My friend shrugged. “I’ve known Hotch for a long time, nearly the entire time I’ve been with the bureau. And I’ve never seen him…he’s always been such a…not polite guy, really. He’s always been a leader. He’s very political in his demeanor. I’ve never seen him lash out at anyone unless they did something to deserve it.”</p><p>“But I’ve never done anything!” I hiccupped, trying to bottle up my tears again.</p><p>“I know. That’s when I knew.”</p><p>White-hot rage unfurled in the pit of my stomach as I pulled myself away from Grant, clenching my fists together. “So, he treated me like shit because he <em>liked </em>me?" I ground out. "What kind of schoolyard bullshit is that? He could have reassigned me. He could have…he could have done anything!"</p><p>Grant nodded. “He could have. He should have. I don’t know why he did the things he did. I think you’d have to ask him…but I could guess.”</p><p>For a moment, I just let his words hang in the air. Because if I was honest with myself, I could too. These thoughts had been ricocheting around the back of my head all day, but I refused to acknowledge them.</p><p>"I hate him," I sighed, pressing my fingertips against the area around my eyes as if that could stop the tears that threatened to return.</p><p>Grant just let out a breath, shifting in his seat until his knee brushed against mine. “No, you don't. I see how you look at him. I've seen how you always looked at him."</p><p>He was right. Of course, he was right. "I wish I could hate him," I whispered.</p><p>“I know you do,” he soothed, wrapping his arm around me again, pulling me into a hug. “I know.”</p><p>--</p><p>It wasn’t long after Grant left my apartment that I found myself texting Penelope Garcia before getting in my car, and driving across town.</p><p>I couldn't be sure of much anymore, but I was sure of one thing. If I wanted answers from Aaron Hotchner, I would have to go to him to get them. He had invaded my space last night, against his better judgment, and no matter what he did or didn't want, he wouldn't pressure me.</p><p>Which is how I found myself knocking on the front door of his apartment just after 9 pm.</p><p>It took several moments before I heard the locks start to beep, indicating the door was about to open. It was a solemn reminder of why the man on the other side of the door was so guarded.</p><p>
  <em>But that doesn’t explain everything. </em>
</p><p>The circles under his eyes were slightly darker than they were the last time I had seen him. His jaw was covered in a pronounced layer of stubble, and he was dressed more casually than I'd ever seen him.</p><p>He said my name softly like he had done this morning, like he couldn't believe I was actually here. "What…is everything alright?"</p><p>I shifted my weight slightly, refusing to drop my gaze under his piercing stare. “I don’t know. I was…I was hoping we could talk.” Suddenly the time of night occurred to me. <em>Fuck. </em>“I’m sorry. I guess I should have called-“</p><p>“No,” he interrupted quickly, opening his front door wider before motioning for me to enter. “It’s fine. I’m…I’m glad you wanted to…” He trailed off, shutting and relocking the door. “I’m just glad you’re here.”</p><p>I looked around his apartment. “Is Jack in bed?”</p><p>He nodded. “Yeah, you just missed him.”</p><p>“Did he have a good trip today?”</p><p>Agent Hotchner smiled. “I think so. It’s not every day that he actually <em>likes </em>my job, but on days like today, it isn't so bad."</p><p>I smiled. “Well, I mean, who wouldn’t want a dad that can get them into FBI Headquarters?”</p><p>His smile matched my own. His eyes were the warmest I'd ever seen them. "He asked about you when his class was leaving. You've made quite an impression on him."</p><p>“I wish I could have talked to him. But…I just…”</p><p>“I know,” SSA Hotchner said softly. “I understand if you need some time.”</p><p>Emotion welled up in my throat again, threatening to choke me. “I appreciate it, sir. I just don’t know yet.”</p><p>He took a step closer to me, so close that I could almost feel the heat radiating from his body. His hands flexed at his sides like he wanted to reach for something but held himself back. “After everything…. after last night, I mean. I just…Please, call me Aaron. At least when we’re…at least right now.”</p><p>I nodded, my eyes fixed on the neck of his t-shirt. "You never asked me to call you Hotch."</p><p>His throat worked before he spoke. "I thought…I thought if I kept this professional boundary in place, it would make things easier."</p><p>“Did it?” I asked, my eyes flashing up to meet his.</p><p>“No. Nothing made it easier.”</p><p>I took a step back, desperate for some sort of space from him so that I could gather my thoughts. “If none of it worked, I don’t understand why you kept treating me like I was…” My words fell off, familiar pain blooming in my chest.</p><p>“I don’t have any good excuses.” He crossed his arms over his chest. “There isn’t any excuse for how I treated you. You’re one of the most competent agents I’ve ever met. The bureau…the BAU is lucky to have you.”</p><p>How long had I wanted to hear those words? How long had I wanted this man that I respected and admired to <em>finally </em>acknowledge how hard I worked for him?</p><p>Now that I finally had it, I found myself feeling empty.</p><p>“Why didn’t you just transfer me?”</p><p>He shifted his weight then like he was uncomfortable. “It was selfish. I…I didn’t want to damage your career in the bureau, but I also didn’t want to be…”</p><p>“To be what?” I questioned, my brows pulling together.</p><p>He sighed, dropping the arms that were crossed over his chest. “I don't want to put all of this on you. It's not fair for me to treat you the way I have for so long, then suddenly confess how much I…how seeing you is the best and worst part of my day. It's the best because you're all brightness and warmth, and I can't think of anything else I want more than to hold on to you. And it's the worst to know that I can't touch you. And it’s not fair to tell you that after all this time, but…I don’t know any other way to explain this.”</p><p>His words hit me in the chest so hard I swore I felt my heart skip a beat. "Aaron. You don't know me."</p><p>“I know you far better than I should,” he said with a mirthless chuckle. “I study behavior, and I…I don’t think I’m subtle about how often I study you.”</p><p>My mind flashed back to what both Grant and Rossi had said to me today. Had I really been that unobservant?</p><p>He continued on, not waiting for me to speak. Maybe he knew I had too many thoughts swirling in my head. “You’re beautiful on the outside, which is evident given how I made an ass out of myself the day I met you. I think I could have gotten over that, I could have pushed that aside, but I knew I was a goner a few days later.”</p><p>I waited for him to carry on, my mind trying to go back to my first days with the BAU.</p><p>Aaron placed his hands on his hips. "It's no secret that I favor the team; they're my team, my family. And I get protective of them. Especially Reid. And I remember standing in my office doorway, watching the whole interaction. Morgan had cut him off in the middle of one of his…rants," he said with a soft smile on his face. "Anyway, Spencer looked disappointed but no more than usual. He's used to that. But you weren't. You didn't know that Morgan always did that."</p><p>His eyes bore into mine, his voice wrapped around me like a vice. “I remember watching you get his attention. By that time, I was already out my office door. I heard you ask him to finish his thought. You said you wanted to know more about whatever he was talking about. And you didn’t. I know you didn’t.” He ran his tongue over his lips. “You reached out to him because he was sad. You wanted to comfort him. And you were happy <em>because </em>he was happy. Do you know how rare that is? For a person to actually be that good, on the inside?”</p><p>“I wasn’t doing anything,” I protested. “I just…”</p><p>He crossed his arms over his broad chest. “You’re kind. You’re one of the kindest, sweetest people I’ve ever known. You make the world better just by existing. And I…I was…I <em>am</em> terrified of you.”</p><p>“I don’t…I still don’t understand, Aaron. I’m trying to, I really am,” I whispered.</p><p>The man in front of me let out a deep breath, letting the last of his armor fall away. He looked at me with an earnestness that shook me to the core.</p><p>"After…after Haley died, my world was too dark, too heavy. I felt like I had let her down…I had let Jack down. She died because I loved her. I have to live with that. Sometimes, that makes my world so dark that I can't even dream in color, and I accepted that. I didn’t deserve to have a world filled with brightness and color. But…now, whenever I do dream, it was always of you. You’ve always been the brightest color. I’m sorry. I wish…no, that’s not right,” he broke off with a bitter laugh. “I don’t wish that you weren’t the first thing I think of in the morning or the last thing I think about when I close my eyes.”</p><p>“Why?” It was a silly question, but I had to hear his answer. <em>I had to. </em>Because despite the events of the past 24 hours, I still couldn’t understand how Aaron Hotchner felt about me. I needed him to say it.</p><p>He dropped his gaze. “Because I’m selfish. I don’t deserve your warmth…but I want to be the sort of man who does deserve it.”</p><p>Something inside of me shifted once he finished speaking. I took a step forward before I could stop myself. Aaron had never looked broken to me; he was without question one of the strongest men I had ever met. But he was so raw like this; he looked so heartbreakingly vulnerable. I don’t think many people who knew Aaron Hotchner would call him a vulnerable man, but almost all of them would call him a <em>good </em>man. He was selfless, brave, and compassionate. I had watched his interviews with victims, and while I wasn’t a profiler, I saw the good in him. I saw how he shouldered their pain.</p><p>I couldn't forgive him, at least not yet, but after everything he had just said, I felt like I understood him better. I understood the man before me, who always tried to do the right thing, even when it ended up costing him everything. Aaron might know me better than I knew him, but I was sure of him. I was sure that he was the sort of man that I could take a chance on.</p><p>I couldn’t say for certain that I wouldn’t regret giving him a chance, but I was certain I would regret it if I shut him out.</p><p><em>Grant was right, </em>I thought. <em>I have always looked at him differently. </em></p><p>I reached out and took one of his large hands in both of mine. I swallowed thickly. “Well, then,” I whispered, bringing our clasped hands up to my mouth, brushing a soft kiss on his knuckles. “What do we do now?”</p><p>His dark brown eyes ran over my face before he brought his free hand up to cup the side of my face, his thumb brushing over my cheek. “I don’t know.”</p><p>My lips pulled up in a slight smile. “Me either.”</p><p>Aaron’s eyes dropped down to my lips for a second before he leaned in slightly. “Can I kiss you?”</p><p>No sooner had I nodded than he brought his mouth down to meet mine. His lips were softer than I imagined; his thick lashes brushed my cheeks, tickling my skin. I dropped his hand while his lips brushed against mine, reaching out to grip his shoulders when my legs threaten to buckle.</p><p>I had been kissed before, but it had never felt like this before.</p><p>Maybe I had been kissing the wrong person all along.</p><p>--</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>This fic was inspired loosely by the 2005 Pride and Prejudice film. I’m sure my eagle-eyed readers will spot the comparison between the last sentence and the film. <br/>One more chapter to go, doves. Thank you for sticking with me. I have surgery next week, fingers crossed I finish this before so y’all don’t have to wait anymore.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
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